


Boon

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Leto's Fight, Pre-Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My friends. We have but one round to go. Should this young man win, he will be remade into my greatest masterpiece and will gain a boon of his choice.” Danarius’ voice carried over the sand, catching on the wind.</p><p>A boon promised to the winner...</p><p>A boon wanted more than anything...one worth fighting for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boon

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write pieces that don't end in some happy, fluffy manner. But this story, well, it's ending isn't an ending but a new beginning.

The water was cold, icy. Droplets fell from his fingertips as he pondered the concentric circles forming in the bowl, the ripples distorting his mirrored image.

Shaking his head, Leto threw the cupped water over his face to sluice off the sweat and blood from the last round. The slave he had faced had been a bodyguard – bigger, stronger, better trained. Better trained, better fed, better except for his lack of conviction. Except for that slight hesitation that let Leto know that this slave wasn’t as sure of the prize.

And Leto was very sure of the prize.

Sure enough to have won the last four rounds. Sure enough to have bested every man and woman dumped into that ring. Losing would result in death – and in the grand scheme of things, his death was not something to mourn. He was, after all, simply a slave. Property of his owner and nothing more. But winning…winning would grant him a boon. A boon he wanted with every fiber of his being.

Punish him, push him, pummel him, Leto didn’t care if he ended up a broken husk - just as long as he won that boon. Just as long as he could give a better life to his family. He would fight for that, and it was apparent that he was willing to fight longer and harder than anyone in that arena.

Another handful of water was splashed over his face and brushed back into his long, black hair. Smoothing down the strands, Leto quickly braided it, pinned it tightly to his scalp to keep it from being a liability. Any second now, the bell would ring to signal a new round. The last round. If he survived…no. Not if…WHEN he bested this final trial he would win that promised boon.

The bell sounded and Leto stepped onto the sand. The sun was a minor irritation at best, something to be ignored. The heat rose up from the sand – heat and blood and the humid tang of bodily fluids. The last slave’s carcass had been dragged away and he stood alone in the circular arena, a thin figure squinting into the late afternoon sun.

Master Danarius stood and Leto dropped to one knee, head bowed. Panting slightly, fear wriggling through his belly, he waited to hear what final challenge he would face.

“My friends. We have but one round to go. Should this young man win, he will be remade into my greatest masterpiece and will gain a boon of his choice.” Danarius’ voice carried over the sand, catching on the wind. The crowd applauded dutifully – mostly sycophantic magisters and their apprentices - none powerful enough to gainsay the man who owned Leto.

There was a shushing noise in the sand and Leto let his head tilt up minutely. On the edge of the arena stood one of Danarius’ apprentices – Hadriana. Young, beautiful, cunning in her power and knowledge. She bowed to the assembled guests, pulled a long knife from the sleeve of her robe and dramatically sliced into her hand.

The shades rose automatically. Fenris waited, his muscles tensing. Shades…he had never fought such things. Their moaning cries made his hair stand on end. He had to win. He had to want it more…more than these vile creatures from the Fade.

The shades were within touching distance when he exploded into motion, his twin swords swinging out to catch one across the chest. He turned the blade to follow his downward strike to take the creature across the center mass, ignoring the lunge of the second. The claws left cold fire in their wake, raking down his side. A wound he could handle…for now.

The first shade fell and the crowd cheered. Ignoring the noise, Leto parried another attack with his longsword, the shortsword sliding under the reaching claws to gouge into the shade’s belly…if it had a belly. The shade gave a piercing scream and flailed.

So close, thought Leto, so close. He allowed another hit, this one across his shoulder, and moved in to plunge the longsword into the shade, wrenching up with all his strength to split the monster. Another scream and it fell.

But the fight wasn’t over.

Hadrianna gestured and the sand swirled, churned, a demon crawling forth from the Fade. Gesturing at Leto, Hadrianna commanded the creature with the last of her strength and then fainted. Leto spared her a glanced before sizing up the new threat.

A demon of fire…rage flaring in its coal-black eyes. How to take it down? He only had his swords - they would have to do.

The demon moved fast…faster than anything Leto was used to. Its fist pummeled into him and left a charred spot and bruising, Leto staggering with the punch. _Don’t let it get close_ , his mind screamed as he dodged another punch. Throwing himself forward, he rolled away from the demon and came up with his swords ready to fend off another attack, this time following up with a slice. He hit and the demon roared in pain.

The sound gave him strength…gave him courage.

He pressed in, parrying, slicing, dodging...only to roll and come up behind it, his swords flying out to bite into the thing’s back. A diagonal slice from the shoulder and down. Now it was down an arm. It let out another roar – terrible rage backing the ringing noise and it turned, trying to backhand Leto. He ducked, stepped in close, and let the thing burn him as he thrust his longsword home.

His screams melded with the demon’s as it shuddered and then melted – returning to the Fade.

Falling to one knee, body wracked with pain, Leto waited to hear if he’d done well. If he’d actually won. And after a moment of silence, the entire arena erupted into applause.

“Stand. Stand and accept your accolades,” Danarius was before him and Leto stood, eyes kept on the sand as he bowed to the audience. “You have won and have garnered my respect. What a warrior I will make of you. You will be my greatest accomplishment. My greatest feat. For your loyalty and your ability, I grant you one boon. What do you wish bestowed upon you?”

Leto fell to one knee, his hand fisting and covering his heart, “I desire only one thing, My Master. Freedom for my Mother and Sister.”

Silence again and then Danarius clapped, pleasure in his voice, “And they shall have it. A writ granting them freedom, granting them Liberati status, and a pouch of coin. They shall be freed this very day. And you, my fine one, will come with me. We have much to do. Much…”

Leto stood. He could hear his mother and sister behind him…their cries fading as he followed his Master under the arena. He never looked back, his eyes trained on the heels of the man who owned him…who had promised to make him into something glorious.

***

The cold water dripped from long fingers, each drop rippling the smooth surface of the basin. Lyrium lines shimmered in darkly tanned skin, the metal catching the light and turning the water to silver. The hands tossed the water over his face, smoothed more water into the pure white hair. Fenris glanced into the cracked mirror, the blood of his former master mixing with the runnels of water.

He had fought his greatest battle today and in his victory had won a boon. The boon of freedom from slavery. A boon of freedom granted in blood splattered across a sawdust covered floor like blood over sand and won by the might of his blade.


End file.
